Soul of an Ox
by A Hypocrite
Summary: The wastes are unforgiving, and the Grimm hunt for easy prey. A lone hunter, trained in the old ways, takes his chances to take an ancient weapon to Beacon and protect it from the monsters of Grimm, but struggles to conquer the monsters of his own mind. Out here, everyone's running from something; and he's no longer afraid of the Grimm.
1. Chapter 1

" _The blade is ancient. It has been here since before man, and it will be here when we are is gone. It has a world-changing power, and a world-changing cost. You must guard the blade with your life. It has great power._

 _The fate of man very well may rest on your shoulders. But I have faith, Taylor. You are strong of soul."_

The world doesn't take kindly to me.

Go to Vale, Vacuo, or Mistral, and half the shops will refuse service to a Faunus. Go to Atlas, and more still would rather turn you to the curb and watch you starve than have a Faunus dirty their stores. There were villages that refused to let you within the walls even if you were bleeding to death after fighting off a Grimm horde that would have killed everyone in the village. All, I reflected, for the two, dark horns that crowned me, rising out of my dark hair.

Some went against the way of things, but I'd never been much of a protestor. The last I'd heard of groups like the White Fang, they were under new leadership. Good. Maybe they'd actually change something for once.

Some accepted their place. They slaved away for employers that didn't care about them. People like the Schnees used Faunus like another might use a plastic cup. It was useful for a while; but then you were done with it, and you tossed it away like trash.

Some people, like me, got the message. We weren't wanted. People like that had founded the city-state of Menagerie. But if you were poor, like me, then you couldn't afford a ticket to Menagerie. So you took your chances with the Grimm. Because the Grimm didn't spit on you when they beat you. You wandered the wastes, day to day, trying not to die.

There was an un-official name for people like me. It was idiot, because people who took their chances with Grimm always died.

I was broken out of my musings by a long, chilling howl, followed by a second. I turned my head to the right, favouring my intact ear. The moon – or what was left of it – had risen, and it seemed, like any other night, that there were Beowolves on the hunt. The howl pierced the night again. It was a hunting howl, one of a Beowolf that was tracking prey. Signing, I tucked my head down to my chest and put one foot in front of the other, heavy footfalls sinking deep into the soft sand.

The same howl permeated the night several more times. A pack had formed, but I could only keep moving. If I stopped every time I'd heard a Grimm, then I'd never make it back to Vale.

A deeper, longer howl broke the soft silence. It was closer. It wasn't the howl of a Beowolf searching for prey; it was the howl of Beowolf who had found it.

I pulled the naked blade from my shoulder and slammed it into the ground, the soft sand giving way to the wicked edge and immense weight of the ancient sword. Scanning the horizon, I picked out a few dark shapes in the night, moving towards me. Three, about a minute away. This would be easier than I thought. They usually hunted in packs of eight or nine at least.

Many hunters, at this point, would be charging in head first, weapons at the ready. But I wasn't a normal hunter. I didn't want to fight them if I could avoid it. I had a sword to protect. And most strikingly, I didn't hold any weapons. Not that I would be needing one. I was a hunter of the old ways.

The Beowolves had slowed down, now. They had begun to spread out, circling me. They snapped and snarled, blood red eyes glowing with ravenous hunger looking at what they thought would be an easy meal. I dropped into a fighting stance, steadied my breath, and waited.

The largest of the three; not quite an alpha, but close, lunged at me, fangs beared. My fist flew outwards and slammed into the bone-like mask of the Grimm. I felt a crack, and I knew it wasn't my hand breaking.

A second Beowolf lunged as the first recoiled, but my Aura absorbed the hit entirely. I spun, and lashed out with a kick, my foot sinking into the soft surface of the Grimm. It was like punching syrup; they weren't quite physical, but more like a shadow made manifest. I concentrated on the point of impact, focusing on my soul, and channelled all of the power I had into Grimm. To explain how this is done is impossible; it cannot be taught, only learnt.

It let out a shriek as the force of a human soul seared it, and I rendered its essence from its form. I paused for a second, waiting for the next attack.

"So it can fight." The voice that rang out was feminine, soft yet sharp, melodic yet imposing. "Such a shame to see such talent go to waste."

I turned to see what I though was a woman at first, then a Grimm. They had skin that was as pale as the moon, but their face was streaked with lines as dark as the night. The same blood red eyes stared at me, but they had an intelligence to them. They were not one of the horde. They were something in between a human or Faunus and Grimm. They were an abomination that shouldn't exist and a fusing of two things fundamentally different.

The two beowolves stood aside, one slowly smoking from its cracked mask. The…abomination moved forwards slightly, before it lashed out, slashing at me with a rapier. I pushed the blade to the side and threw a hook towards her face, but she ducked under it. She slashed again, and it cut straight through my aura, carving across my chest. It hurt, more than it should. I took a second to steady myself. The creature stood back, holding immaculate posture while I was hunched over, one hand clamped over the wound. It was wiping the blood from the blade with its hand.

"It is so pitiful to see a somewhat talented opponent die so undignified. A shame, really." I let out a roar, and leapt forwards. I lashed out with a savage kick, striking her in the head and infusing my soul into the strike. It staggered backwards, and I pushed the advantage, striking out with a clenched fist at its nose. My fist slammed into its face and again I used my soul to empower the blow. She staggered backwards with a grunt. I dropped lower and tackled her, driving my horns into her stomach. She cried out in pain, audibly this time, before pulling herself off the horns and throwing me backwards. I felt a thick, dark, blood-like substance slowly drip down my horns.

"Insolent child." She said. "You trifle with powers you do not understand!" I laughed.

"It seems I don't need to understand to beat you." I spat in the sand. It fell next to the drops of blood dripping from the wound in my chest. Her face curled into a snarl, and she lunged at me again, the blade outstretched. I tried to push it aside, as before, but it moved to fast. The blade plunged all the way down to the hilt into my chest.

I gasped, struggling to breathe. She moved closer to me, so close I could feel her essence.

"You are nothing," she said. I could feel something different about her essence. Grimm didn't have souls, but she did. She had a dark, twisted, corrupted soul, but a soul none the less.

I struck her hand holding the blade, breaking her grip. I grabbed the blade in my chest and ripped it out to free up my movement. Then I took a breath, numbed the pain, and focused, before I struck with an open palm, into the centre of her chest, focusing my soul not on her Grimm essence, but her weakened, fragile, human soul.

She was thrown backwards as I used my soul to almost destroy hers. She tumbled through the sands, rolling to a stop. Slowly, she dragged herself to her feet.

"Enough!" She cried. "I will not allow you to interfere any longer, insect!" She pointed her arm at me, fingers spread out open, palm facing me, and a torrent of darkness consumed me. At first, it was painful, but then I grew cold, and I felt almost nothing. I turned, and started to stagger back to where the sword was, but I could barely move in the cold. I caught a few glimpses in the swirling darkness of the abomination moving towards the sword. I could die here, but I could not let that thing have the sword. I reached into my jacket, and my hand closed around a warm gemstone. I took a deep breath, calmed my soul and crushed the shard of dust.

In an instant the cold was gone, replaced by a burning heat. I breathed the flames in, barely controlling the inferno that spread for almost a hundred metres in every direction. I walked through the blaze, using all my willpower to prevent myself from being incinerated. I headed towards the blade, and I found it glowing a bright orange, still in the sand. When the fires faded, both of the Beowolves had been incinerated. I told myself that the abomination would have been annihilated as well. That no creature, Grimm or human, could have survived the onslaught.

But there was a part of my soul that knew it wouldn't be dead. There was a part of my soul that knew that thing had survived. Something about it made me think it wouldn't die so easily.

I pulled the cooling blade from the sand. More Beowolves had begun to howl. They had seen the blaze. They were coming for me. I sighed, and continued on my trek.

Now, more than ever, I needed to keep the blade safe.

 **First Fanfic, play nice. Characters have been reduced in power and Grimm have been made tougher to make the combat more interesting, so remember this if characters don't plough through thousands of Beowolves in three minutes when they might in the show. I'm not from the US so there might be spelling "mistakes" or distances in metres instead of feet or yards. Harsh reviews are welcome if they are justified. Uploads will be whenever I can get a chapter written.**


	2. Chapter 2

" _The soul is the core of your being. Without a soul, you are nothing more than the Grimm you fight. They are beings of shadow – of anti-soul. Never underestimate the power of the soul, Taylor._

 _Now again. I will not rest until you have beaten me."_

I arrived at the Monastery when I was twelve. At the time, I was a little taller, a little quicker and a little smarter than the average twelve-year old. But I wasn't anything spectacular by any means. That was, however, until I met my teacher, Valkoinen. An old man with wispy white hair, he had fought off an Ursa with nothing but his hands. At first, I thought that this was impressive, but now I know that it was no different to him than a second helping of dessert. Something a little out of the ordinary, but hardly unheard of by any means.

I travelled with Valkoinen to a place somewhere between the border between Vale and Vacuo and the city of Vacuo itself. I had no idea that such as a settlement existed so far from a major city. And this was because it was no ordinary settlement. It was an academy, like Beacon or Haven. But the Monastery did not create average hunters. It created hunters that did not fight with weapons, or with a simple semblance. It created Hunters that used the full extent of the most potent weapon available to man; the soul.

There were few students at the Monastery. Usually, these people were orphans without a future who the Masters at the Monastery believed had strong enough souls to be Hunters. This involved usually extremely potent semblances that showed a powerful soul. The vast majority of people had a semblance, yes, but they couldn't access it normally, or it wasn't powerful enough to be relevant. But almost everyone had a semblance that they could build on.

On the flipside, I didn't have a semblance. I just didn't. My soul was silent. Many of the Masters told me I was too old, and too weak to begin training. But I refused to leave. It took six years of training; six to eight hours of meditation every day, and my soul still refused to develop a semblance. But I discovered that I could do something greater than a semblance.

As I became more and more aware of the soul, I could sense the soul in others. In this way, I could win fights against other initiates while blindfolded. My soul grew stronger, and soon, other initiates who could beat anyone else simply couldn't break my aura. It didn't matter that the other initiates were breathing fire, or teleporting, or turning invisible. My soul could not be conquered. Dust was more sensitive to my touch, and I could control it better, or create more spectacular results.

But when my soul reached what Valkoinen believed was strong enough, he taught me a technique that had been reserved to the Masters. The ability to use my soul to strike at enemies. Using this, I became one of the strongest initiates the Monastery had ever seen.

I looked up and scanned the horizon. There was a sandstorm coming in. Sighing, I pulled the makeshift cloth mask up over my face. I looked to the blade. There was a feeling in my stomach that told me to cover it so the sword wouldn't be scratched by the sand, but I decided it wasn't worth it. A weapon older than humanity had probably weathered more than just a sandstorm.

I covered my eyes as the sandstorm hit. Some specs hit me, but I was able to use my aura to keep the majority of them away.

"You're being slack. Too many grains are hitting you." A soft, deep voice said. Ahead of me, I could see the unmistakeable silhouette of Valkoinen. But he wasn't moving. I knew he wasn't real.

"You've been slack with all of your training, come to think of it. You need to start meditating again." I grit my teeth, and kept my head down.

"You've-" I slammed the blade down, and lashed out with a punch. I didn't feel anything, but the hallucination was knocked to the ground anyway. When it climbed to its feet, it was no longer the same person.

"Son?" A second image appeared. It was a portly man with larger, longer horns than mine. My mother died in childbirth, but father always told me she was a canine Faunus; and "a proper wolf, not a Chihuahua". I'd inherited a set of nasty canines from her that I was actually quite proud of. "You've grown, look at you. Your mother would be so proud. But that sword-" I dropped the sword again, and threw a punch. It dodged it this time. In its place stood a roughly female shape, far shorter than me. She was oddly thin, and had striking, silver eyes.

"You cannot bear this burden." Unlike the previous two, I had no idea who she was. Sometimes she appeared to me in dreams; other times in hallucinations like this. Sometimes she advised me. Sometimes she spared with me. Sometimes she would simply watch me. "Not alone. You have to-"

For the third time, I sunk the blade into the sands and threw a punch. It struck home. The hallucination staggered backwards. I paused. Usually, this hallucination disappeared like the Grimm. I watched as the hallucination regained its balance, before slowly walking towards me. I tilted my head to the side.

Its eyes snapped open, blood red. It lunged at me, plunging a blade into my stomach. I gasped in pain as the blade sunk into my chest, and for a second, I was face to face with that abomination again.

I started coughing as the sand filled my lungs. The pain burning in my chest faded. I was alone with my thoughts once again.

I pressed onwards for a week more, all without a drop of water, a crumb of food, or a second of sleep. It had been part of my training to master my body; this meant sustaining myself off the energy of my soul alone. It wasn't the hardest thing, in reality, though I do not recommend a beginner attempting it.

I had begun meditating while walking. This was, in practice, harder than sustaining myself, because I had to think to walk, but not think to meditate. It required a separation of the mind; one part to think, one to not. I had not achieved the state perfectly, but once again I was exploring my soul, now for upwards of fourteen hours a day. Now I moved on two journeys at once; one to Vale, and one to the eventual mastery of my soul.

The blade against my skin was numbing sometimes. The sheer weight of the thing alone gave me a dead arm at times, but there was something different about the blade that made it feel sinister. Sometimes, my soul felt weaker while I carried the blade, but when I placed it down, it would return to its full strength. Sometimes I wondered if there was a soul inside the blade, reaching out to mine. Sometimes, I wondered if the blade wanted to siphon my soul from my very body.

I hoped it was neither of these things. But I couldn't help but feel it was at least one.

Over time, I felt like I was being followed more and more. Especially at night, I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched.

Whenever I got the chills down my spine that signified this, I tucked my blade a little closer to myself. Someone out there wanted this sword, and I was the only thing between them and it.


	3. Chapter 3

" _The first thing you must train is your body, Taylor. Your body must be a conduit for your soul. Perfect the body, and you will push the boundaries of what you thought the physical form could do._

 _Now, push-ups until dawn."_

After what I guessed was a month, I began to find the first signs of plant-life. This meant I had escaped the barren wastelands of Vacuo and was starting to near the inhabitable regions of Vale. Soon, I was in a proper forest, and I was starting to find signs of animal life as well. This was a good and bad sign. It was good because it meant that after about two months or so I guessed I had reached about half way. It was bad because where there was prey, there was predator. And there was no predator greater than the Grimm.

It was just past dawn when a long, low growl set me on edge. In one motion, I slammed the blade down and dropped into fighting stance, staring around. I watched as a huge, hulking shape crushed undergrowth beneath it, and let out a roar. An Ursa, the first of my trip.

I lunged forwards and slammed my fist into it mid-roar. I focused my soul, and I could feel its essence weaken. Its roar turned into one of pain, and a heavy, clawed paw slammed into me. My aura absorbed the damage, but I was knocked to the side, winded. I began to rise to my feet, but the Ursa was already on top of me. It tried to crush me under foot, but I rolled to the left. Its feet sunk into the ground where I was a second ago, and I scrambled to my feet. I saw the Ursa turn to face me.

I took a breath. I had to focus. The Ursa opened its jaw, coming in for a bite. I closed my eyes, and sensed only the essence of the monster.

My first blow struck the creature square where its nose would be, and my second strike found the exact same mark. I felt both of these reverberate through its essence. It was weakened severely; I needed one strike to finish it. I leapt into the air, spinning, before I slammed my foot into the creatures face. There was barely any resistance as it was destroyed finally.

I stood, breathing slowly. For a moment, its red eyes haunted me, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. I had enough troubles with things haunting me as it was. I took my blade, and continued on my journey.

For almost a month, that Ursa was the largest Grimm I encountered. I wished it had stayed that way.

I heard a low rumble from above the trees. It wasn't the same as the Ursa's growl. It sounded like an engine. I paused, lowering my blade, but not releasing it yet. There was a loud shriek, like the cry of a bird. My heart stilled. I'd only seen two Nevermore before, and I didn't care to see one again. I watched as a bullhead streaked across the sky, and a dark shape followed shortly behind. Through gaps in the trees, I saw the Nevermore latch onto the bullhead with its claws and shortly after that, a deafening crash confirmed my worst fears. With unnatural speed for someone so overworked, I began to move though the underbrush with no concern for who might hear.

When I reached the crash site, the Nevermore was picking at someone's intestines. Its beak was already stained red with blood. I saw someone move in the wreckage slightly. The Nevermore fixated on them, slowly starting to pace over, its head tilting side to side sporadically. I rose from my crouch, and slammed my blade into the ground. I took a step forwards, but I hesitated. If I fought the Nevermore, I left the blade open for long enough for someone to take it, even if won. And if I lost, then I would be practically handing the sword to that abomination that attacked me.

I watched as the Nevermore pinned the injured man down, a long, razor-like claw piercing the man's chest. The Nevermore watched him struggle for a moment, as if amused, before it plunged its beak into his back. I winced as the Nevermore ripped a bloodied spine from the man's back. I balled up my fists. If I fought the creature, I would die. That was sure. But was it better to live a coward than to die a hero?

A hero of who, I thought. They were dead. And if I died, I would leave the sword to the Grimm. True cowardice would be fighting that Nevermore, and giving up on protecting the sword.

So I sat and watched, helpless, as the Nevermore had its fill, before it cawed loudly and flew away. I waited until it was out of sight, then counted to 100 before I moved to check the bodies.

I didn't bother checking the bodies outside of the crash. The Nevermore had done that for me. I climbed into the wreckage.

Blood stained the walls. Mangled corpses covered the floor. I went through them all, one by one, checking their pulses. They were all long dead. I bent down over a child, a girl no older than five. I moved my hand to check her pulse.

Her eyes flicked open, blood red. Her hand grabbed mine, and although it only fit halfway around my wrist, her grip was like iron.

"You didn't save me." She said. "You couldn't save me." I recoiled in shock, trying to pull away from her. When I did, her eyes snapped shut and her hand fell to the ground.

"You didn't save me." A familiar voice rang out. My teacher, Valkoinen stood among the corpses. "You couldn't save me." I got to my feet, and threw a punch at him. He disappeared.

"Why did you save me, Son?" My father stood behind me. "You watched me burn." I turned and lashed out at him – it. It was a hallucination. My vision was beginning to blur.

"You failed them. You failed them all." The silver eyed girl was standing in the centre of the room. I could feel tears beginning to streak down my cheeks.

"No." I croaked. "I didn't fail them."

"Then why are they dead?" She said.

"You don't exist!" I yelled at it. "You don't belong here!"

"We don't exist because you failed us. Now we're dead, and the only place we're alive is inside of you, because you just can't let go."

I could only collapse to the ground and cry. For once, I forgot about the sword, and eventually drifted into the first uneasy, but real sleep in months.

 **A/N To be written**


	4. Chapter 4

" _The mind must be trained as well. I can feel that your mind is troubled, Taylor. You must learn to push these thoughts from your mind; or if you cannot, to master them. Mastery of the mind will help you unlock the full mastery of your soul."_

I first experienced true pain when I lost my ear. I had been only a few years old when a crystal in a nearby dust shop exploded, destroying the entire store. The burn had melted my ear entirely, and I still bore many of the same scars today. It made me look aged and weathered, like I was the veteran of a dozen wars, but the actual story was quite mundane, in comparison to some of the other scars I bore. But still, it was the worst pain I ever experienced, the feeling of flesh and skin melting. I remember distinctly the taste of my own lips ablaze. But I came out the other side stronger than I had before. I was no longer scared of dust, or fire. That pain hardened me, made me braver, because I had already endured the worst that the world could inflict. The only pain greater than that of losing my ear was the loss of my father; immolated in the same explosion.

Despite the previous day's setback, I had made the best of it. I had taken two shards of dust from the engines, which would serve me well in the case that I needed them. Figuring some money might do me some good, I took about 400 lien from the various bodies. But feeling guilty for looting the dead, I put it all back, distributed as evenly as I could.

Despite the fact that I had rested for the first time in months, the blade felt heavier on my shoulder. But that was my burden to bear.

"You grow strong, initiate." Volkoinen said. "But not yet strong enough to carry the blade."

I was about to drive the blade into the ground, but I hesitated. Then, without saying a word to him, I continued walking.

"You cannot bear the burden yet. You are not ready."

"Yet I bear the blade anyway." I replied. It was the first time I had spoken to Volkoinen; I had said a few words to the silver eyed girl to try to determine her identity almost three months ago, and a few more words to her yesterday, but I never spoke with the hallucinations if I could help it. "It does not matter if I can carry the sword. What matters is that I have no other choice but to find a new hiding place for the sword.

"You are not worthy to hold that blade." He said.

"Oh?" I pried, and despite myself, a smile crept to my face. "And who is?" I would question any of his teachings whenever I could, always determined to find a better way in order to prove myself to the Masters. Volkoinen's lips spread out in a toothy smile, and for a second I could feel him near me, like he was really there.

"A student should never question a teacher." Volkoinen chided, his usual response to such a challenge to his teachings.

"But you yourself told me that the greatest academics of Remnant are so because they chose to question the way of things. Am I not, then, a greater academic than you?" I had almost forgotten the blade on my shoulder; I was back with my old teacher from whom I learnt everything.

"You are greater at arguing around in circles. But I know you. I concede. Perhaps you relatively worthy." I was reminded of another one of his teachings. The soul was invincible, but needed a body to be powerful. His soul did not have another body, and instead, it followed his last remaining student. The thought comforted me. Even if all I saw were hallucinations, maybe he was still with me.

"You cannot carry the blade. How can you hope to save the blade if you cannot save us?" My father asked. I continued for a moment, pushing past him, but the hallucination followed me.

"Just because-"

"You know I couldn't have saved you." I said. "You would have been dead before I could have stood. But you know I can redeem myself. By protecting this blade I protect the rest of man. There is nothing more I can do for anyone but this." The hallucination paused for a second. I stopped, turning to look at it.

"What's the matter, father? Cat got your tongue?" I smiled at him, and he returned a grin. "We're so proud of you, son." He said, before fading away. I continued.

I spied her two days after I had spoken with my father and Volkoinen. It was a shape following me, thin and lithe. I thought it was some kind of Grimm at first, but I caught a glimpse of the silver eyes, and I knew it was her.

I came to a river the day after that, and I began to follow it downstream. It wasn't wide, but it was deep, and the water was crested with white at the rapids. I was a capable fighter, and I assumed I was strong enough that I could swim quite easily, but if I was totally honest, I didn't know how. I'd never swum in my life. And I didn't want to try it out in a river like this.

I started looking for a part shallow enough to cross. I followed the river downstream all day, all night, then until almost midday before I found the next best thing; a fallen tree that would allow me to cross.

When I clambered onto the trunk of the old oak tree, she appeared in my path. I took a few steps towards her, until I was staring her in the eye.

"You will fail." She said. "You cannot carry that blade to Vale."

"I have not failed anyone." I said. I was almost confident this would work. I was mastering my mind, something I had done before.

"But you will. You will fail them all." A blade appeared in her hand, and she slashed down at me. I was ready though, and the blade carved through thin air as I stepped backwards. The footing was unstable, and I held the blade in one hand, but I still spun on one leg, lashing out with a kick. It struck home and knocked her off the tree.

I heard the slightest of movements behind me, and spun again. I threw a punch, but she raised her free arm and blocked it. A second slash came through carving into my chest. I leaned backwards, moving my foot slightly. I couldn't find stable footing, and she took advantage of it, driving the blade into my chest. It burned with fake pain, but it was enough to throw me off balance. I slipped, and plunged into the river.

My world was consumed by the murky waters. I reached out, trying to find the sword. I felt a sharp warmth in my hand as it was sliced open my something. I resisted the urge to flinch and instead grabbed outwards. My hand closed around cold metal and I pulled the sword towards me, clutching as best as I could. I started kicking wildly, trying to push myself to the shore. My foot struck a rock, and although it hurt, I used it to push myself off. I slammed into a bank, and pulled my head out of the water, gasping for air. Blood was blossoming across my hand from where the sword had cut my hand.

I hadn't mastered my mind after all. But now I knew that I still had much to learn.


	5. Chapter 5

" _The soul is the defining trait of man; our greatest strength, our fatal flaw. Master the body and you will push what you thought man could do. Master the mind and you will push the limits of reality. But master the soul, and you will change reality itself._

 _Not hungry, Taylor? Here, have some chocolate at least. We haven't had chocolate in years."_

I always wondered how the moon came to be.

It was one of those stories that Valkoinen would tell like he knew off by heart, as if he'd been there when it happened, but somehow still changed on a nightly basis. Whenever I corrected him, or told him that not two days ago Grandmaster Tammi, and not Grandmaster Kalpea, had killed the Castle-Sized Grimm with nothing but an apple seed and a length of twine, he simply said that I had to work on my memory, and the story had been told the same every single time, down to the word, the pronunciation, and the exact duration of the story down to the second.

Despite this, story time with Valkoinen was one of my favourite times of the day as a child, because it meant I could take a break from the constant, rigorous training. He always insisted that one particular story was true; I could barely remember any detail, but I knew it was about someone helping an old man and being rewarded for it; I could remember this because he said that every time I helped him, there was a chance he'd give me magic powers as well.

Needless to say, I never got magic powers.

But the only story I took seriously was the story of our original masters; the Grandmasters themselves. They lived for a thousand years, vanquishing all the Grimm they came across without fear. They were the first people to use dust to its full potential, they were the founders of the Monastery, and most importantly, they were the original guardians of the blade I carried with me today. They founded a golden age of prosperity, and allowed mankind to flourish.

But as they fought the Grimm, their souls became inflicted with the dark energies they fought. They became warped and corrupted, abominations of man and Grimm. Without their leaders, the golden age soon collapsed. Thankfully, the new generation of hunters slew the Grandmasters and lead mankind into a new era. Valkoinen warned me never to allow this to happen to me.

A series of howls brought me out of my musings. I paused to listen closer.

"Six to eight consistent howls lasting ten or more seconds from different Beowolves." I heard Valkoinen say. Ever since I'd 'conquered' him in my mind, he'd gone back to being my teacher; if an annoying one at that. He was right though; six to eight howls lasting ten or more seconds meant that a large pack had formed. The pack most likely contained Ursa as well. A Nevermore was a possibility, but no more than one, and they usually didn't travel in packs outside of co-ordinated attacks on settlements. Or sole travellers carrying artefacts with potentially cataclysmic power. It wasn't that big a difference in the end.

"Still waiting on your answer. You're supposed to reciprocate the correct pack size and possible non-beowolf additions." Valkoinen tapped his foot impatiently.

"Did you ever consider that I was reciprocating it to myself?" I asked.

"Did you ever consider that I'm not you, and I want you to reciprocate it to me?"

"Fine. Large pack; at least 12 to 15, but probably no more than 25. One or two Ursa accompanying the pack is to be expected. A Nevermore could be part of the pack, but it's unlikely. Happy?"

"Extremely." Valkoinen's voice was completely dry and free of any form of happiness. I sighed, and he faded away.

I began to pick up the pace. I knew what to do from here. Keep moving, find the tallest tree I could and climb it to attempt to find the Grimm. I wished I could simply look out at the Horizon and see them, like in the wastes of Vacuo, but the trees also served to hide me from them, and for that, I was thankful.

I found a fairly tall pine tree, maybe about 3 or 4 metres above the average tree. I scaled it to top fairly easily and gazed around.

The first think I noticed was the pack of Grimm. There was no Nevermore, thankfully, but there were at least three or four Ursa, and possibly two dozen Beowolves. They were hunting big game.

The second thing I noticed was the game in question. A pillar of smoke rose in the distance, and I could pick out a few ramshackle huts gathered together by a loose stone wall. It would hold against a pack of Beowolves, but three Ursa? Likely not.

For a second, I flicked my canines with tongue. If I headed towards the settlement, I would have to make it there fast. If I headed away, I could avoid the pack entirely, and keep the sword safe.

No. I had my limits. I could pretend that I was on some high and mighty mission, but I couldn't damn an entire settlement for my own sake. If I was there, I could help them hold the walls, take care of the Ursa, and maybe make the difference. If worst came to worst, I still had two shards of dust in my jacket pocket. If it came to it, I would use them to destroy the town, and save the sword. In such as case, I reasoned as I began to climb back down, it would have been the same as if I hadn't been there at all. I set off at a light jog, careful not to let the sword bounce too much and sever something I wanted to keep.

I approached the gate cautiously. I hadn't spoken to someone outside of the Monastery in almost a decade. How would they react to a Faunus carrying a weapon openly? I decided to tell the truth; I was a hunter passing through, and I had sighted a pack of Grimm closing in on the town. Faunus hunters were not so rare; in fact, there was a disproportionate number of Faunus hunters because they often found they couldn't fit into a more mainstream job, and the major academies recruited on skill alone.

"Stop right there!" A harsh voice called out. As was his request, I paused, and waited. I spied the man who had spoken. He was taller than me, sans the horns, and more heavily built though. Despite this, I felt I could kill him in an instant. I didn't think it would come to that, though.

"What brings a Faunus out here?" He called, walking towards me. "Especially with a sword like that."

"I'm a hunter. Now keep your voice down. There's a large pack of Grimm moving towards us as we speak, and if it's alright with you," I glanced over my shoulder nervously for good measure, "I'd rather not be out here when they come by."

"And what if we don't want you inside our walls." He asked. Now that he was close, I could see is face. He looked like a man who'd been woken up early for the last sixty years; and knowing anything about towns like this, he probably had.

"You don't want someone who studied for years to become a professional Grimm killer, who faces packs like this every day, who knows everything there is to know about Grimm standing there by your side on that wall?" I shoved my free hand into my pocket; it was filled with sand, but I didn't make the fact known. "If that's how you wanna live your life, fine by me, but I mean, I'm not gonna be the one to regret it." He paused for a second. I could tell I'd given him a good argument.

"Fine. You can stay the night, but I want you clear by tomorrow morning. You people always cause trouble."

"You won't regret it." I smiled politely at him.

"I'd better not." He turned around, and began to walk towards the gate.


	6. Chapter 6

" _Our life is a life of solitude, Taylor. One day you might have a student of your own, and you will cherish the company. But until then, get used to every man, woman and child you meet looking at you with fear and suspicion, for people are always scared of what they do not understand, and more so if they only understand you can destroy them in an instant._

 _Keep up, will you? We've still another two kilometres to the summit."_

I'd enjoyed not being hated for being a Faunus. The Monastery was a fairly open minded place when it came to it. You were talented? Great, then if you were more talented than a certain point, you were respected as a certain rank. If only the wider world was so centred on who a person was instead of whether or not someone had a pair of horns sticking out of their head.

"What's he doing in here?"

"Who let him in?"

"Get this dog out of here!"

"Mommy, why does that man have horns?"

I hated it most when the children did it. Some old man who sat on his porch complaining about anything he could possible take offense to was one thing, but he'd be dead and buried by the time the next generation of Faunus grew up. They wouldn't have to deal with him. But knowing that those kids would grow up the exact same and torment Faunus just like their father, and his father before him, and his before him for as long as history had been kept…

I'd given up hope that Faunus could be equals during my lifetime.

"Sorry about all these…comments." The guard who opened the door for me was leading me through the town. It was larger than I thought, and haphazardly planned, making it a veritable labyrinth of sorts. "Just that the last Faunus through here nearly burnt the town down." I shrugged, though he had his back to me, and the gesture went unnoticed.

"I don't care for reasons. I'm more than used to it." He mumbled something in reply, but I decided if he wanted me to hear it he would have spoken louder. "Where are we headed?" I asked him.

"My boss, the head of town watch, lives in the gatehouse over the other side of town. Figured if there's something big enough to warrant you coming in here instead of dealing with it yourself, you'd want to talk to someone in charge."

It only took another minute or so to reach the gatehouse. It was a small, hunched-over stone cottage that looked like the wall had been built on top of it. The guard led me inside.

The cottage was a single room affair, with an iron stove shoved into one corner, a bed a few steps away and a bookshelf in the opposite corner. There was a table with a map half-unrolled on it, as well as what looked like what remained of breakfast or lunch. A short, stocky man with greasy black-grey hair was reading, reclined against a wall next to the stove, which had a fire burning inside. The man was wearing a singlet, but despite the heat of the room, he had a beanie pulled low over his ears. For a minute, I thought I saw it move, but it was just the flickering light of the flame playing tricks on me. The man looked up lazily at me.

"Another trouble-maker, Lex?" He asked. The guard beside me shook his head.

"Not quite the usual, I'm afraid." The guard – Lex, presumably – said. "He's…well, he can speak for himself." I took that as my cue to explain myself.

"I'm a hunter from Beacon," I started. Beacon was the Hunter's Academy in Vale; at least I thought it was. I'd heard of their headmaster, Ozpin, and figured he might have an idea of where to hide the sword. At the very least, taking the blade to a school of Hunters would keep it safe from Grimm, if only temporarily. "I've been tracking Grimm since Wednesday," I had no idea what day it was, but Wednesday would do. "and they've formed a large pack. They're headed this way. I wanted to make sure the town would be safe." The man sighed, shut his book and stood.

I noticed two things about him that I hadn't seen before. The first was a scar; a long, thin, white scar snaked its way down the left side of his face, across his eye. And the second thing I noticed was a small insignia. It was almost hidden under stain on his singlet, maybe intentionally, but it was unmistakeably the insignia of Atlas. Without a doubt, this man was the veteran of war.

"Name's Janus," He said, and offered his hand. I shook it. He had a firm handshake, one that gave the impression of strength without outright crushing my hand. "And if what you say is right, then we don't have much time to get things prepared. How many Grimm are we looking at?" He started to move over to the map. I followed.

"At least 15, including roughly three Ursa. I'd say there's between 12 and 25 beowolves accompanying them." Janus unrolled the map, using one of the dirty plates to hold it open.

"Nevermore?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Saw one a month back or so, but there isn't one travelling with the pack." He nodded to himself, murmuring.

"In any case, I'll be glad to have a hunter by my side again. Which direction did you say they were coming from? And how fast were they moving?" I pointed to a spot on the map, north of the town.

"Last I saw they were about here, moving directly towards the town. Moving at a fast pace, the Beowolves would already be upon us, but the Ursa slowed them down, and there's a river in the way. At that rate…" I did the calculations in my head, whispering and murmuring to myself. "They might be closing in on the walls in about half an hour."

"Half an hour?" Janus' tone was forceful. I could tell it wasn't enough time. I nodded.

"They'll be around the town in about half an hour, but Ursa are most active around Dusk and Beowolves are generally night hunters. So they'll attack around sunset, probably." Janus leaned back a bit.

"Ok. I can work with that. Lex, check where the nearest Atlas fleet is. I think they were pretty close last time I checked. Try to signal down two squads or so." Janus said.

"On it." Lex exited the room through the door we entered. Janus turned to me

"Help me block the gate, then go the North gatehouse and help Lex lower that one. Then get up on the wall and keep watch. I'll start getting people together. We can get together a force of 26 if everyone's able, but I wouldn't count on it."

"26 should be enough if they're armed well. What kind of weaponry do we have?" Janus pursed his lips.

"This and that, mostly semi-automatic rifles or shotguns. Lex and I have automatic weapons and about a hundred dust rounds between us." I nodded to myself.

"How fast can you take down an Ursa? The walls will hold Beowolves, but an Ursa might be able to break them." Janus shrugged.

"Never seen one take more than two dozen or so hits from dust ammunition, so we should be able to take them down fairly easily."

"Then if the pack doesn't grow this grow this should be fairly easy. We'll take one Ursa each. I'll deal with any Beowolves that manage to scale the walls, and then drop down once we thin the ranks down a little bit." Janus smiled.

"You gonna put that sword to good use?" My face drew into a slight scowl, before I relaxed it. He didn't know any better. To him this blade was just another weapon wielded by just another Hunter.

"No," I paused, searching for an excuse. "The blade belongs to someone else. I fight with my fists." Janus raised an eyebrow, before shrugging.

"Whatever works for you. Now help me with this gate."


	7. Chapter 7

" _Never underestimate anything, but most of all Grimm. Even a single beowolf's howl can be heard for miles, and can lure dozens more, or larger, more dangerous Grimm. Those who underestimate Grimm often overestimate their life span as well._

 _Now eat up, Taylor. Tomorrow we will begin at dawn, and you will not have time for breakfast."_

The quiet scared me, honestly.

Not quiet as in the absence of noise. There was plenty of noise with all the preparations. But the quiet of looking at something, and knowing that something was about to happen. The quiet before the storm. When I was in a fight, there was nothing to be scared of if I had faith in the strength of my soul. But when you sat there, knowing that there was a statistically sound chance that one of these fights would be your last moments alive, you got pretty psyched out.

There was a shifting sound beside me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Janus climb up onto the wall, and take a seat next to me. We sat in silence for a few moments.

"Everything's almost ready," He said. "Lex is taking care of the last of it." He was going over his gun meticulously, checking it back to front to make sure everything was in order.

"Good." I said. Again, silence fell between us. I'd left my blade in Janus' hut, hidden under a loose floorboard. It would hardly be safe forever, but I could be sure it wouldn't be picked up by some stray Grimm stalking easy prey.

"You nervous?" He asked. A wry half-smile spread across my face.

"Only a little," I said. He laughed; a warm, hearty laugh.

"Then you're the bravest of us all," I chuckled.

"If only," I replied. The clanking of metal stopped, and he put his gun down onto his lap. He was apparently ready.

"Are they still out there?" He asked. I nodded softly for a second.

"Yeah. You can see the eyes every now and then." I pointed into the forest, vaguely. A few seconds later, I caught a glimpse of red. Janus brought his gun up, aiming, before he lowered it.

"Say, kid," Janus began, before hesitating.

"Yeah?" I looked at him. His face was set, his jaw hardened. His eyes were trained on the tree line, searching for movement.

"You got a name?" I thought about it for a second. I hadn't heard my own name in months. It took me a while to remember it.

"Carreg." I replied. That sounded about right. "Carreg." I repeated it, softer, just to make sure.

"Well, Carreg, if…" He paused again. "If I end up pushing up flowers out back, make sure someone's here to take good care of this little hovel."

"I'll do everything I can," I nodded slightly to myself. "And If I bite it, make sure someone from Atlas takes that sword to Beacon." He smiled.

"I'll get someone from Atlas to look after the town and take it there personally, Carreg." I smiled as well.

"Not that it'll come to that, hey?" I asked, and he laughed again. Despite myself, I chuckled with him.

The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky a vivid orange, as if the world were ablaze. Preparations had finished in their entireties, and now the various inhabitants of the town paced the walls, looking out into the city. There was great variety among them; man and woman, tall and short, muscled and short. Some looked like they had been weathered by too many years to fight; some looked like they hadn't been weathered by enough. Not a single Faunus, however. I felt a little bit out of place.

A howl filled the sky. Then a second. Then more and more, till there were dozens. Many people looked nervously out towards the woods.

"Are they moving on us?" Janus asked, standing up. I stood as well.

"It would seem so." I could pick out movement. "The minute they break the tree line, fire."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Janus brought his gun up, sweeping it across the trees.

A shadow broke out, zigzagging towards the wall. I clenched my fists, before Janus' weapon roared to life, and the beowolf took two or three hits, dark blood spraying across the ground, before it dropped and began to fade.

It was like someone had opened a floodgate. Grimm poured forth, flooding the ground between the trees and the wall. Gunfire shook the dusk air, like thunder. I stood, waiting for my mark. The beowolves were not making it to the wall; not yet. In less than half a minute, the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, wisps of smoke hung in the air, 13 beowolves lay dead, and not a single Ursa had appeared.

A cheer went up among the people.

"Eyes on the trees!" Janus yelled. "We're not done yet!" I could see more movement in the trees. Janus leaned towards me. "This isn't natural."

"I'm more than aware." I said. I didn't like this. We were being baited. Grimm didn't do this. They were not intelligent, but here they were employing tactics.

"They want someone to check it out." I mused.

"Like, get off the wall?" Janus asked.

"Yeah."

"That's not a great idea."

"Nope."

"So what's the plan?"

"Watch my back." And before Janus could object, I leapt forwards, and dropped off the wall. The Atlantian fleet could be as much of an hour off, and during that time, a Nevermore could easily make their way here. And then the town would fall.

I'd barely taken two steps forwards when a lumbering shape pulled out of the shadows. It was an Ursa, but larger than I had ever seen. It bristled with spines, and towered, almost the size of the wall. An alpha. Grimm surged forth. There had to be fifty of them, at least. But they ignored me. It was as if the alpha had marked me out for its own. It let out a mighty roar that seemed to shake the ground underneath my feet. I fell into a stance, and the Ursa charged towards me.

It reared back, before it came crashing down, but I leapt backwards. I steadied myself, before moving to the side of a vicious bite. Despite its size, it moved with surprising speed. A heavy claw raked down, across my entire body. I blocked some of it with my aura, but it still tore gashes into my skin. I tried to stay focused, to numb the pain, but I could feel the warm blood running down my chest.

A second swipe thundered through the air, but I rolled forwards, underneath it. I struck upwards half a dozen times, channelling my soul into every strike, before I again rolled out from under it as it tried to crush me with its weight. Again, I rained down-half a dozen blows, striking sure and true, using my soul to empower the strikes. I could feel I was having an effect, but it would be too slow. The Grimm had already begun to overrun the town; dozens had made it over the wall. Every second I spent here put lives at risk, put the blade at risk.

I took a deep breath. I cast off the shackles of expectation. Of what had been. I had to destroy this Grimm. It was as though time slowed, the pain numbed, and I could feel my soul wrapped around me. I was strong, or at the very least. I had to be. And sometimes, simply needing made you capable. I focused it, coalesced it into the centre of my palm. And exhaling, I struck with a single blow.

The wind whipped around me as I annihilated the Grimm. It dissipated instantly. For a second, I felt weak and unsteady. My soul had been depleted almost entirely, spent in the strike. But I refocused, and started to rebuild it.

A beowolf lunged at me. With the alpha dead, it appeared I was free game. I threw a punch at it, and it connected with the mask, stunning it for a second, before I struck again and shattered it. A second leapt at me, but I didn't have time for this. I had to deal with the Grimm inside the town; those would be the strongest. If any Ursa remained, they would be inside the town. I grabbed the Grimm and positioned myself to use its own momentum, throwing it to the side. I turned to the now unmanned wall, ran and leapt, finding handholds and climbing to the top. I could see an Ursa rampaging through the villagers. I watched as it tore into a boy no older than 10, and that was all I needed to spring into action. I leapt onto a roof, the tiles giving way as I landed. They slipped out from under my feet, clattering to the street below, but I kept moving. The Ursa was taking shots from numerous villagers, including from who I recognised as Lex. I leapt from the roof to the next over. The Ursa roared and charged forwards, straight at the person it deemed was most threatening; Lex. He could barely do anything as the Ursa bit down on his upper body and shook his body from side to side in its mouth. He was almost torn in half. Fuelled by rage, I leapt from the roof and brought my foot down on its head. The force of the strike obliterated the already weakened Ursa instantly. People began to fan out immediately, and I took another second to survey the area. Without the powerhouses of the Ursa, the Grimm were beginning to fall back.

I noticed a shadow had fallen over me. It was growing, quickly. The Atlas squads, here to clean up. I turned to look up.

I was knocked to the ground as the Nevermore crashed down where I had stood a moment ago. There was a sharp pain in my head, and I heard a crack. It had tried to nose dive to kill me, disregarding easier prey. I recovered, and fell into stance, but the Nevermore had recovered as well, faster than I had. It reared back and flapped its wings. Feathers, the size of a man, sheared through the air. One of them drove into my stomach, piercing straight through and pinning me to the ground. The Nevermore let out a shriek of victory, before moving in for the kill. I reached into my jacket as its beak began to close around me, feeling the soft warmth of the crystal, before I crushed it, and for one glorious moment, my world was nothing but an inferno.


	8. Chapter 8

" _They were found in their apartment. Blew their own brains out with a handgun. No relatives, no friends. I don't even know how he afforded the apartment. Case closed as soon as it opened, Gentlemen. Let's get this body on a slab_ _."_

Mud was cold. So was water. And dirt. And both at the same time was even colder.

I wish I could say I stood up and walked the whole thing off, brushing ash off my clothes. But in reality, the concept of 'cold' was about the limit of my mental capacity.

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. Now I had another few sensations. Movement. Heat from the hand. My aching body, covered in dried blood and wounds. My brain started to return to more natural order.

The hand moved to my neck. Someone was checking my pulse. I flicked my eyes open to see an Atlas soldier, covered head to toe in white armour standing over me. Night had fallen. A light, cold rain stung my wounds. I groaned as I stood. The atlesian soldier moved to grab my shoulders.

"Sir, you shouldn't move." Another sensation; language. I pushed the soldier away.

"I'll be fine. Go. Keep checking for survivors." I stepped away from him. I heard him take a step towards me, before he hesitated, then walked away. I kept walking – well staggering, if I'm honest – trying to pick my way towards Janus' hut. On the way, I found the man himself. He was wearing something around his neck now; dog tags of some kind.

"I want someone at every cardinal direction keeping watch for more." He was giving orders like he was in charge. Then again, I reflected he _was_ a veteran. A villager moved towards him.

"Please, Janus, my daughter is missing. You have to find her." Janus looked up for a second. His face looked like he'd aged ten years since I'd been standing on the wall beside him.

"I have to find a lot of people, Jonathon. But I've got everyone able scouring the village to find survivors. We'll find her, Jon. I promise." He turned to a soldier. "You! Help this man…" He trailed off when he saw a woman walking towards him. She wore a long, white coat, with silky-looking white hair drawn into a bun behind her head.

"Janus Schmitz!" She proclaimed. "You are to proceed with me at once."

"Great, can it wait?" Janus turned away from her. The woman moved closer to Janus; I could see she stood significantly taller than him, but still shorter than me.

"That is an order!" She obviously didn't like being disobeyed. Janus raised an eyebrow.

"From who?" She hesitated for a second. "Because last time I checked, I'm still a specialist, same as you." A smile crept across his face, and he jingled his dog tags.

"Are you still a Faunus?" She asked, her voice cold. The villager, Jonathon, took a step back, actively distancing himself from Janus. A few of the soldiers paused, staring at Janus. He pulled the beanie off his head, and a pair of pointed canine ears rose up from his head.

"There's a reason, Winter Schnee," I could see he was choosing his words carefully. "That you have a reputation."

"Because I get the job done. Because I am loyal. Because…" Janus cut her off.

"Because you're cold, and insensitive, and you don't care about people, Winter. I've got a ruined village to take care of," He spun, gesturing around him. "And…" He trailed off when he saw me.

"You abandoned Ironwood!" Winter cried. Janus barely acknowledged her.

"Shut up." Janus said, walking towards me. "You...some kind of miracle? Last I heard a Nevermore had you pinned under a feather, then you just sort of exploded." I laughed.

"Dust is a powerful thing." I croaked. He smiled.

"That it must be. Now look at you. These wounds need to be dressed! That feather went straight through you, and it looks like you took a nasty hit from one of those Ursa…" Janus seemed to be having trouble staying on one train of thought.

"Yeah, an Alpha." I replied.

"You've my pity, then." He chuckled. I smiled, which turned into a wince as he prodded at the wound from the

"And your horn. That'll take years to grow back." I reached up, checking them. My left was perfectly fine, but when I went to check the right one, there was nothing more than bloodied stump. The Alpha Ursa or Nevermore must have cracked it off.

"Are you done?" Winter asked impatiently.

"I thought I told you to shut up." Janus replied sharply. I suppressed the urge to smile at her frustration.

"General Ironwood has personally requested to see you, Janus." Winter said. "As your superior you are required to oblige and take the next bullhead to Beacon." Janus raised an eyebrow?

"So old Ironwood's holed up in Beacon now? I suppose the Vytal festival is going on, isn't it." Janus moved away from me, before looking over his shoulder at me. "You need to get to Beacon, don't you?" I nodded.

"That's where I'm headed, yeah." I closed my eyes for a second, trying to focus on something other than the cold ache in my chest. When that didn't work, I simply focused on using my soul to help heal the wounds. The grandmaster's bond between body and soul was supposedly so advanced that they could stand in fire and regenerate their burning skin. I wasn't quite at that level, but it was better than nothing.

"I'll shout you a ride then." Janus said. Winter seemed like she objected.

"The bullheads are full." Janus stared at her for a second, before turning to two nearby soldiers.

"You two!" He called. They jogged over. "After the operation here is finished the two of you are to stay here and ensure that everything in the town remains safe and stable in the wake of the attack. Am I clear?"

"Sir, I'm afraid…" Janus cut him off.

"It's a yes or no question, private." Janus turned to him fully. He hesitated for a second.

"Transparently clear, sir." Janus smiled.

"Excellent. And oh, look, what a coincidence, it seems a few seats just freed up. Guess Carreg will be able to fit onto the bullhead after all." Janus glanced between Winter and I, measuring our reactions. "Go get your sword and let's go, if Ironwood so desperately wants to talk."

Janus sat across from me in the bullhead. He spent most of the time staring out the window. My gaze alternated from the scenery below; rolling green hills, lush forests, snow-capped mountains, and the two black ears that poked out of his messy hair. Sometimes, he'd poke his head out the side fully, and his ears would twitch in the wind. I couldn't imagine it being pleasant, but he did it anyway. Eventually, he sat back in his chair, glancing around the bullhead. It turned out that there had been plenty of room; Winter and several more soldiers had remained behind to oversee the reconstruction of the wall and town, and as such, the bullhead was empty.

"So," Janus said, pursing his lips. "Guess you've figured out that there's more to me than meets the eye?" I shrugged.

"It's not like I've been entirely truthful with you either." I tensed up slightly. I didn't know how he would react.

"Well, I didn't think they gave that level of extensive dust training at Beacon. Using it in its raw form is almost unheard of." He relaxed. I did the same.

"Right, you first," I gestured to him.

"You've probably got a more exiting story with that sword of yours and all."

"Save the best for last. And you brought this all up anyway." Janus shrugged.

"Fine." He sighed. "I was born a Faunus, but I'll skip my childhood. I'm sure you can guess how well it went in Atlas. I was a prodigy with anything academic, but as a Faunus, my talent went unnoticed. That was until I was fifteen, and I signed up to join the military with a fake ID. The most important thing was that in the photo, I didn't have ears. I was a human. I wore hats often, mostly beanies. When I didn't, I used my semblance to hide them. Minor illusions and such. Not particularly useful outside of this little application." He made a small light in his hand. I nodded. Quite fascinating, actually. I could think of a number of uses for it. "I served for three years; got this nasty scar of mine," he pointed to his face. "Before I joined Atlas Academy with a perfect military record, graduated top of my class, and served as one of the most successful Atlas specialists ever. I had a 95% success rate on missions. I was legendary. But then, maybe six months before I moved to the village back there, a specialist died on a mission I led. Now, he knew the risks. No specialist signs up without knowing that they have some of the highest fatality rates of any soldier serving in the Altesian military. His brother, another specialist, blamed me for his death. He tried to ruin me, and after a few months, he figured out I was a Faunus, and the entire time I'd been Janus Schmitz, not Janus Smith. So, I pulled some strings before the information became too widespread, assigned myself to the smallest, most remote town I could find, then corrupted the entire assignment database to protect myself. And it worked for a while. But I guess you can't run from your past forever." Janus was staring at his feet, unblinking. He looked up, breaking out of the trance. "You?" I took a second to collect my thoughts.

"Grew up in Vale. Suffered the same childhood you did for a few years. Mother died in childbirth. Father died in a dust explosion when I was three. Gave me these burns. Lived on the streets for nine years, and more people tried to kill me than gave me anything. So I decided I'd had enough. I got the message. I up and left the city. Wandered the forests for a few days. Killed my first Grimm; a beowolf, with a rusted hunting knife I'd stolen. Eventually I found the man that would become my teacher when an Ursa tried to make a meal of me. He slew the thing with a single blow from his fist. For a while I followed with him, training, before he took me to the Monastery. The original hunter's academy. There I trained for almost a decade. I grew into one of the most proficient initiates in the history of the academy. See, at the Monastery, we trained the soul. That's why I can kill Grimm with my bare hands, or create explosions with shards of dust. I was trained to."

"But then Grimm attacked," I paused for a second. For the briefest moment, I saw Volkoinen sitting where Janus had been, but when I looked, it was only the grizzled old Faunus. "More than I've ever seen before. Dozens of Nevermore. Hundreds of Ursa, and what had to be thousands and thousands of beowolves. Now they're all gone."

"And the sword?" Janus asked.

"It's a weapon of devastating power, or at least that's what the legends say. We guarded it for thousands of years. But now it isn't safe. I took it from the Monastery when Volkoinen fell. I have to guard it."

For a moment, I saw another person in the bullhead again. It was the silver-eyed girl. I stared at her for a second, before she grinned. Her face turned pale, and the veins under her skin fell as black as ink. The silver in her eyes turned to the crimson colour of blood. I sighed.

"But the Monastery's gone, now. I just have to keep this sword safe."


	9. Chapter 9

" _Remember, Grimm are not the only form of evil. One day you may find yourself called upon to harm or kill another for the sake of the wider world. You must never hesitate to do so._

 _You are not the first of my students to show such potential, Carreg. I only hope you will not be the second to fall."_

I remembered Vale quite well, actually. Not much had changed about the sprawling metropolis of a little over a million. Once there had been greater cities, cities that housed tens of millions, but they had long since fallen, and withered away into dust.

Houses in Vale were still a rarity; most of the city centre was taken up by old brick apartment buildings five or six stories tall. Some more modern sections of the city had taller towers of glass and metal that might stretch up twenty stories at the tallest. But the most striking tower in the city was the Beacon CCTS tower. It stood a dozen stories taller than anything else, helped by the fact that the ground Beacon was built on was raised up above the rest of the city already.

Over the tower of Beacon there were several large airships, longer than some of the buildings in Vale were tall. I recognised them by the insignia as Atlas ships. It seemed there was a significant military presence in town.

The bullhead swooped down, landing outside of Beacon. Janus raised his head; he'd been asleep for the latter half of the trip. I wish I'd been as well, but I wasn't used to flying and the bullhead was hardly the most stable thing in the world.

We were greeted by half a dozen Atlesian soldiers, who promptly escorted us into Beacon. I always wanted to go to Beacon, though while it was impressive, I much preferred the archaic stonework of the Monastery. We were taken straight into the tower.

"General Ironwood has requested to see Janus exclusively, not you." One the soldiers held out a hand to prevent me from boarding the elevator.

"But…" Janus cut me off.

"Don't bother. Orders are orders, Carreg, you can't dispute them." He shrugged. "I'll see if I can get Ironwood to talk to you after he's done with me, but he might not be in the best mood." Janus, and two of the soldiers boarded the elevator, and I took a seat in an uncomfortable armchair in the lobby. My arms wrapped around the sword, and free from the pressure of constant Grimm, I dozed away into relatively comfortable sleep.

"Professor Ozpin would like to speak to you." The blonde woman strode past me without a second glance. "Take the elevator up." I'd been waiting for almost eight hours; I'd be woken by Janus, who informed me that Ironwood wouldn't talk to me, but Ozpin would, and that I should stay here and wait for his request to speak with me. Several people had passed through the tower; all hunters in various states of qualification, and many had eyed me with a look of suspicion. But I'd remained here until this woman with a riding crop had finally decided I'd waited enough. I took the elevator to the top floor. Something rattled as it went up, making me feel slightly nervous, despite the fact that this elevator was probably used several times a day, and a little rattling was probably nothing.

"He cannot help you." The silver eyed girl was standing before me. "You cannot carry the blade." She'd become more sinister since I had conquered Valkoinen and my father. It was as if whatever was buried deep inside my mind knew I was coming close to being rid of it, and it was trying to dig in and stay.

The door of the elevator slid open, and the girl vanished. Instead there was a man, standing with his back to me. He was dressed in a dark suit; not one that an Atlesian official might wear, but something slightly less formal. His desk was bare, aside from a coffee mug with what I believed was the Beacon logo. I took a few steps towards the centre of the room, before I planted the sword down, the soft clink of sword of the metal floor seemingly the loudest sound I'd ever heard, compared to the current silence of the room. Again, I felt almost scared of the quiet, not knowing if this would be the end of my journey, standing here. Finally, Ozpin spoke.

"I hear you've walked half the way from Vacuo to find me," He stated. "And I suppose you did so without food, or water, or particularly much sleep if you were alone. It's a long way to walk." He turned, one hand on a cane.

"You make it sound difficult."

"You make it sound easy." Ozpin leaned on his desk, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "But we digress. Many of my students; indeed, many fully-trained hunters would not be able to do what you did. So it's clear that you're not new to the business of killing Grimm, at least. Tell me, did you happen to find a Monastery somewhere between here and Vacuo?" I thought for a second.

"Perhaps." Ozpin's eyes lit up.

"It's been a while since I've seen someone from the Monastery. So how are they all doing? They cut themselves off a while back; I've been trying to contact them just to make sure that everything was still running smoothly."

"They're dead." Ozpin's face drew into a scowl.

"Pardon?" He regained his composure, but I could see the news shook him.

"Grimm horde, bigger than anyone'd ever seen. Wiped them out. I took this," I lifted the blade slightly, before lowering it, "and ran."

"I see. This is concerning." He took a moment, staring at his feet. "Why take the blade?" Ozpin's head tilted to the side slightly.

"It's not just a sword." I said after a moment. "It's something else, something more significant. The Grimm, they were coming for this. It's a weapon that if what I've been told is correct, could wipe out man."

"Then I assume you've come to me to find somewhere to protect the blade?" I nodded.

"The blade cannot be kept at the Monastery any more. I was hoping that a school full of Hunters would be sufficient in protecting the blade." Ozpin paused of a second, before moving away from the desk. He walked past me, motioning for me to follow, and we boarded the elevator. When we were both inside, he gestured to the walls.

"Notice anything?" He asked. I looked around. There wasn't much to notice. The walls were plain metal, with a strip of lights through the centre of the walls. I remembered the rattling, and looked for anything that could move. Not seeing anything, I started hitting the walls with a clenched fist, trying to locate the source of the rattling. I found that the elevator rattled loudest when hit from directly across from the door. Investigating the wall up and down, I noticed something.

"The rubber join between the wall and the light is missing." Ozpin reached past me and slipped a sliver coin into the small gap. It clinked and rattled, before the coin was spat back out into his hand. The elevator began to move downwards.

"Clever thinking, looking for the rattling. If you'd want, I could offer you a spot at Beacon; if you can hold yourself in a fight and know a thing or two about Grimm, I'd be able to put you straight into second or third year, and you'd be able to graduate as a certified hunter." Ozpin was more musing to himself for the most part; a habit I had to admit I was not above in any case. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. The sword." The elevator came to a stop, and opened into a long hall. At the end there was some large metal machine, but I couldn't see any detail. Ozpin began walking, and I followed.

"Now, what you're about to see is by necessity a secret. But if that sword needs protecting, I don't see a safer place than down here. Now, before you jump to conclusions, I must say that yes, she is alive." The last part took me by surprise, and I started looking around. My eyes fell on the machine and I saw on the other side of the glass a woman. Her face was covered in deep, wide scars.

"What happened to her?" I asked, in awe.

"Have you ever heard of the story of the four maidens?" I almost smiled.

"So the old man was right." Ozpin nodded.

"This is the Fall Maiden. Well, half of the Fall Maiden, at least. Someone stole part of her powers. Possibly the same someone who tried to take your sword." It reminded me of something else.

"What do you know about Half-Grimm, Half-Man people?" I asked. Ozpin's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second.

"Oh, there are always rumours. Heard some?" I nodded, just to see where he was going with this. "I think it was only last week that I sent a team of students to investigate claims of increased Grimm activity. Someone claimed that there was a Half-Beowolf woman with a baseball bat."

"And what was it?"

"An alpha that was carrying a baseball bat for some reason. Dropped it the second the fight started. Must have just liked the shiny thing." I knew Grimm didn't think like that, and I guessed Ozpin was hoping I didn't. He moved over to one side of the machine.

"Leave the sword here. When we have a minute, Glynda will install something to hold the blade in place, perhaps with a lock and key." I dropped the blade down. It felt weird, the familiar weight fully lifted from my shoulders. Perhaps this was the end of it. I could live the life of a normal hunter. Forget about the sword.

"Say, tomorrow, I'd like to see you spar against some students of mine, to see how you do. Help with a formal enrolment." Ozpin told me. Perhaps this was the end of it. I could live the life of a normal hunter. Forget about the sword.

But then I saw the silver eyed girl standing next to the sword. Colour began to drain from her skin, her veins enlarging and turning an unnatural shade of black. Like blood dripping into a container, her eyes slowly changed from silver to red. And I knew that the sword would not be safe until whoever attacked me that night was dead.


End file.
